I’m packing.
Suitcase zipped.
Shoes on.
Keys in my palm.
I tell him I’m done.
I tell him I need space.
I tell him I’m not a possession.
He doesn’t move.
He just watches.
Still. Calm.
Like a storm holding its breath.
I turn toward the door.
Hand on the knob.
“If you walk out,” he says.
Voice low. Even.
“You’ll regret it.”
I don’t look back.
“I don’t regret you, Silas.”
I say his real name.
A mistake.
The air shifts.
Temperature drops.
I hear his footsteps.
Heavy. Deliberate.
Leather on hardwood.
Before I can turn, he’s there.
He grabs my wrist.
Twists.
Pulls me off balance.
Keys scatter.
I gasp.
He spins me around.
Slaps my ass.
Hard.
Red blooms instantly.
“You don’t get to leave,” he murmurs.
“You don’t get to pretend you’re someone who can walk away.”
I try to pull back.
He doesn’t let go.
“I’m twenty-four,” I snap.
“I’m a grown woman.”
He steps into my space.
Blocks me.
“You are. And that’s exactly why you’re mine.”
His hand slides to my jaw.
Thumb strokes my bottom lip.
“You think independence means running?”
I swallow.
“I think it means choosing for myself.”
He smiles.
Cold. Sharp.
“You chose me.”
“I chose freedom.”
He laughs.
Low. Dark.
“Freedom is a myth. Control is reality. And you’re under my control.”
He grabs my shoulders.
Turns me around.
Pushes me forward.
I stumble onto the sofa.
He follows.
Knee between my thighs.
“You want to be independent?” he asks.
“Then earn it.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t want to earn it. I want it.”
He doesn’t blink.
“You don’t know what you want.”
He stands.
Unbuttons his shirt.
Slow.
Deliberate.
I watch his chest.
Muscles shifting.
Veins tracing down his stomach.
“Strip,” he commands.
I cross my arms.
“No.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Say it again.”
My voice trembles.
“No.”
He moves.
Fast.
Grabs my waist.
Flips me over his arm.
I’m upside down.
Face pressed to the cushion.
He spanks me.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Sharp. Stinging.
“You think you can defy Daddy?” he growls.
I try to squirm.
He pins me.
Heavy forearm across my back.
“You belong to me.”
I bite my lip.
“I belong to me.”
He chuckles.
Dark. Possessive.
“Wrong.”
He grabs my wrists.
Ties them together with his belt.
Rough. Quick.
I whimper.
He unbuttons my jeans.
Pushes them down.
Kicks them off.
Pulls my panties aside.
I’m bare.
Shaking.
Exposed.
He runs a hand down my spine.
Stops at my ass.
“You’re tense.”
“I’m terrified,” I admit.
He smiles.
“Good.”
He presses two fingers inside me.
I gasp.
Back arches.
He curls them.
Hits my spot.
I cry out.
He adds a third.
Stretches me open.
“You don’t want freedom,” he says.
“You want this.”
“What?” I sob.
“Me.”
He pulls out.
I miss him instantly.
He grabs my hips.
Flips me onto my stomach.
Faces the mirror.
“Watch.”
I catch my reflection.
Naked.
Bruised.
His.
He lines himself up.
Thick.
Hot.
Veined.
He pushes in.
No warning.
Just depth.
I scream.
He grips my hair.
Pulls my head back.
“Breathe.”
I do.
He’s all the way in.
Hips flush against my ass.
“You’re so tight,” he groans.
“So perfect.”
He pulls out.
Slams back in.
Hard.
I hit the sofa.
Bounce.
He doesn’t care.
Fucks me like he’s claiming territory.
Like he’s marking me for life.
“Say it,” he demands.
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m—” I break.
He hits deeper.
Grinds his pelvis against my clit.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I cry.
“I’m yours, Daddy.”
He groans.
“Again.”
“I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.”
He smiles.
Proud.
Possessive.
“Good girl.”
He picks up the pace.
Hips snapping.
Thighs slapping.
Skin ringing.
I’m dripping.
Soaking the sofa.
He grabs my wrists.
Pins them above my head.
“You think you want out?” he grunts.
“You’re never leaving.”
“I don’t—” I shudder.
He bottoms out.
“You’re carrying my child.”
I freeze.
“What?”
“You’re bred for it,” he says.
“Built for it.”
He thrusts harder.
“I’m going to fill you.”
“Silas—”
“Daddy.”
“Daddy,” I sob.
He groans.
“Take it. Every drop.”
He pulls out.
Turns me over.
Lifts me by the thighs.
Spreads me wide.
Positions himself.
I’m on my back.
Legs draped over his shoulders.
He lines up.
Pushes in.
Slow this time.
Letting me feel every ridge.
Every inch.
I whimper.
He grinds his cockhead against my entrance.
“You’re going to take my seed.”
“I’m not…”
“You are.”
He thrusts.
Deep.
Unstoppable.
I arch.
He follows.
“This isn’t sex.”
He says it against my neck.
“It’s a promise.”
I feel it.
The weight.
The heat.
The claim.
He’s breeding me.
Really breeding me.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I do.
His eyes are dark.
Hungry.
Devoted.
“You’re mine.”
I nod.
Tears spill.
“I’m yours.”
He smiles.
“You’ll carry my baby.”
“I want to,” I whisper.
He stills.
“Say it louder.”
“I want it,” I cry.
“I want your baby. I want you. I want this.”
He roars.
Fucks me like a man possessed.
Hips piston.
Balls slap.
I scream.
He covers my mouth.
“Swallow it.”
I do.
Orgasm hits like a bomb.
Clamps down on him.
He groans.
“Daddy’s girl.”
He drives in.
Last.
Final.
Holds me down.
Cums.
Hot.
Flood.
Deep.
I feel it.
Every pulse.
Every drop.
He empties inside me.
Claims me.
Fills me.
I shudder.
Whimper.
Cripple.
He doesn’t pull out.
Keeps me impaled.
Breathing hard.
Pressing kisses to my stomach.
“There,” he murmurs.
“Right there.”
I wrap my legs around him.
Pull him closer.
“Don’t stop.”
He laughs.
Low.
Satisfied.
“Never.”
He rolls us.
Keeps me pinned.
Keeps me full.
“You tried to leave.”
He traces my lips.
“You’ll never do it again.”
I nod.
“I don’t want to.”
He frowns.
“Prove it.”
I kiss him.
Hard.
Desperate.
Tasting salt.
Tasting him.
“I’m staying.”
He groans.
“Good.”
He shifts.
Rests his forehead on mine.
“Rules aren’t chains.”
I trace his jaw.
“They’re home.”
He smiles.
Possessive.
Proud.
“Then you’ll carry my name.”
“I will.”
“My blood.”
“I will.”
“My legacy.”
I nod.
“I’m yours. Completely.”
He groans.
“Again.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
“I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.”
He kisses me.
Deep.
Claiming.
“Then you’ll love it.”
“What?”
He smirks.
“The baby.”
I laugh.
Soft.
Shaky.
“I’ll love it.”
He rolls off.
Keeps an arm over my stomach.
Pulls me against his chest.
“You’ll be a good mother.”
“I’ve never wanted anything more.”
He strokes my hair.
“Good.”
He presses a kiss to my neck.
“You’re pregnant.”
Not a question.
A fact.
A promise.
I feel it.
The weight in my womb.
The heat spreading.
The truth settling.
I’m carrying him.
My Daddy.
My alpha.
My forever.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He smiles.
Satisfied.
“Then you’ll keep my rules.”
I nod.
“I will.”
“No more talking about leaving.”
“Never.”
“No more hiding.”
“I won’t.”
“You’ll wear my ring.”
“I will.”
He chuckles.
“Good girl.”
I look up.
Meet his eyes.
“I am.”
He strokes my cheek.
“You always were.”
He pulls the sheet over us.
Keeps me pinned.
Keeps me full.
“Sleep.”
I close my eyes.
Hear his heartbeat.
Feel his arm.
Feel the life inside me.
I’m not free.
I’m not alone.
I’m his.
And I’ve never been happier.
He kisses my temple.
“Mine.”
I whisper back.
“Yours.”
And it’s enough.
It’s everything.